


Are Your Lights Still On?

by apackofsmokes



Series: Clownin' Around [3]
Category: DCU, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Batman, Masked Vigilantes, Scott is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apackofsmokes/pseuds/apackofsmokes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you here to kill me?“</p>
<p>Stiles casually leans against the door leading into the stairwell to hide his hurt. “Is that what you think of me? That I would kill my own brother?"</p>
<p>Scott does turns then, regarding Stiles with a sincere smile. "No."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are Your Lights Still On?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remyllian_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remyllian_fire/gifts).



**Beacon City Skyline**

 

Stiles lands soundlessly on the cement of the skyscraper’s roof, the wind blowing lightly. Below, to the left, pedestrians and cars hustle and bustle. To the right is darkness. It encompasses the narrow streets and alleyways. A world all its own.

This is Beacon.

The light and the dark, scaling from one rooftop to the next. How many others have hopped, jumped, run across these buildings; from cops, tricksters, masked vigilantes? Stiles inhales and exhales this city. It’s toxic and awful, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not anymore.

From his perch on the building’s edge, without turning, Scott asks, “Are you here to kill me?“

Stiles casually leans against the door leading into the stairwell to hide his hurt. “Is that what you think of me? That I would kill my own brother?"

Scott does turns then, cape billowing, and regards Stiles with a sincere smile. "No."

Of course. Not his Scotty.

Stiles returns the smile with a genuine one of his own. He sits beside Scott, feet kicking wildly over the edge. "This is some real shit, ya know? How’d we get here?"

It’s rhetorical, but Scott answers anyway. "You abandoned us."

"I didn’t abandon anyone,” he spits. And okay, maybe that’s not one hundred percent true. He totally peaced out like a one night stand instead of someone who was supposed to be in a committed relationship of six years. But he had reasons. Fucking good ones. “There wasn’t anyone one _to_ abandon."

"Stiles… I know things were hard after– we were trying to– ” There are tears in Scott’s eyes, and fuck this isn’t what he wanted. At least this wasn’t what he wanted from Scott. No, Scott deserved an explanation just as much as he did. They owed that to each other.

“Hey look, I’m not here for that right now, okay? I don’t want to fight. Not with you.” Not mentioning who he _does_ want to fight, Stiles spreads both of his hands in front of Scott’s face. "See, no bat. Just me and you and however many of those suckers there are.” He punctuates with a head jerk to the four lane under them.

“Too many."

"You were never the antisocial type before. It’s all that sunshine you radiate. Everyone get caught in your gravitational pull."

Scott blushes, which was Stiles’ intention.

"It’s Derek. He brings out the hermit in all of us.” Scott waits a beat then says, “He told us what happened at the warehouse. We had a bet on who you’d corner first."

"Yeah? Who won?"

"Cora,” he laughs. “Said you’d make Derek sweat like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Eve."

Stiles smirks and thinks to himself:  _Which ghost am I?_ "That analogy doesn’t make sense."

"Doesn’t it?” Scott questions, switching his gaze to the sky. Starless from the ambient light.

He doesn’t understand why everyone always thinks so little of Scott. Keeping up with Stiles isn’t a small feat by any means, and he’s been doing it since they were building sandcastles with firecrackers hidden inside. Scott was the one who taught him to tie his shoes when Stiles wouldn’t take the time to learn from his parents. Didn’t laugh or call him a baby, just sat with his fingers on the laces and said:  _Bunny ears!_ with bright eyes and floppy hair.

Kind, patient, reliable; everything Stiles wasn’t.

There’s a comfortable silence that he wishes he didn’t have to break. His curiosity gnawing.

“How long have you and Derek–” _been partners, lied to me_.

Scott bites the inside his cheek. “Since senior year."

"Senior year! _Dude!_ ” Stiles shrieks.

Scott has the decency to look ashamed, guilty. “I know, alright!"

"And that Summer abroad?” Stiles questions.

“Technically that wasn’t a lie? Derek took me to The League."

Stiles’ eyes widen in disbelief. "The League. Derek took you to _The League of Assassins_?! Did you meet Chris Argent? Was he hot? Fuck, I bet he was a total DILF. What I wouldn’t _give_ – "

Scott ignores him like he always does when Stiles talks about people he wants to get down and dirty with.

"I don’t know man, it just kind of happened. One second I was being jumped by these guys in an alley – because my dad, you know? Said he was a rat, a crooked cop. They didn’t know he was long gone – the next, Batman was saving me! _The Batman_. Trust me, the first thing I wanted to do was tell you.” Then Scott frowns. “But, uh, when Derek was fighting, one of the guys swiped his mask off. He begged me not to tell anyone, especially you. You guys were already so fragile with the sneaking behind everyone’s back. He didn’t want to add more complications, he wanted to keep you safe.”

Stiles can’t help but feel insulted. Like he was some defenseless child at seventeen who was responsible enough to fuck, but couldn’t protect himself. Not in the way that Derek thought Scott was capable of.

He shakes it off, not wanting to reopen old wounds. “That still doesn’t explain the tights, bro."

"Yeah, well, we can’t all look like MCR rejects."

"And here I thought I was the clown,” Stiles quips.

“Oh you are,” he fires back with a snicker. “Nice alias, by the way. You didn’t even change your name."

"All the good bird ones were taken,” Stiles deadpans. “And it’s not like Stiles is my real name anyway. How’s it feel to be in the same category as Gerard?"

What he doesn’t say, is that the police have no idea who he is, just that Theo has an accomplice: male, early twenties. They call him Harley Quinn. It’s as amusing as it is offensive. Theo would be insufferable if he found out.

"I’m a hero. Gerard’s a villain. Just like you’re a villain.” Scott tells him, lacking judgment, but pride still coloring his voice.

“First of all,” Stiles holds up a finger, “I’m a realist."

"You threw a guy out a twenty-story window!"

"He called me crazy!"

"Aren’t you?” Scott snaps.

Stiles drops his eyes to the traffic beneath them. The words come out sad and bone-tired. “I wasn’t that day."

The playful bickering comes to a halt and the mood sours. Though Stiles can tell by Scott’s fallen face that he regrets what he said.

"I blackmailed him."

"What?” Then Stiles remember what they were talking about. Derek.

Scott looks farther away than he’s ever been. “Keeping quiet about Derek being Batman. My price was him training me, letting me be his sidekick at the very least. I just– I wanted to help people. And maybe… maybe I wanted to have this for myself.” He pauses, takes a breath. "I’m sorry I lied, even if by omission. But I understood why Derek wanted to keep you out of all this. It’s fucking dangerous. Hell, you know that, you’re half the problem."

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes.

"I’m making the city a better place, just like we always talked about. Maybe this isn’t how I envisioned it…” Scott trails off, scrunching his nose.

“You mean the dream of being cops like our fathers before us?” Stiles says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart, then dropping it. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we both missed that mark."

Thinking about his dad, the past, in such close proximity to his best friend (ex-best friend?) makes him feel raw. Like an exposed nerve.

Scott shrugs, "It’s kinda the same. We just… deliver the bad guys to the cops instead."

"The only delivery I like is a good punchline and eggrolls,” Stiles winks.

“You’re an eggroll,” Scott says, knocking their shoulders. “After everything with my dad and yours… I can’t trust the law to get rid of the real villains. Derek gets that better than any of us."

All this Derek talk after not really paying him any mind for months makes him antsy. So he distracts himself, bending forward into a handstand and walking along the ledge on his hands.

Scott for his part casts him a weary glance, but doesn’t try to stop him. As if reading his thoughts asks, "Are you doing this to get back at Derek?"

” _Are you doing this to get back at Derek?_ “ Stiles mocks and balances back on his feet. "This may come as a shock, but not everything in this goddamn city is about Derek Hale.”

"I had to ask."

He puffs out his cheeks, "I know."

Stiles returns to Scott’s side and presses their bodies together. Shoulders to hips to legs. It’s a familiar comfort. "Theo– he’s not controlling me you know. Everything I do is my choice, my decision,” Stiles says seriously. “I’m not getting played here."

Scott chuckles. "Stiles, you’re the smartest person I know. If anyone’s getting played, it isn’t you.” He wraps an arm around Stiles, pulling him impossibly closer. “I don’t blame you for the– ” he gestures to Stiles’ everything. “I knew you had this side to you. Also that you were the one who helped Theo escape. I can’t approve of your relationship. He hurt you, terribly and completely and one thousand percent _not your fault_. If I could keep you away from him, I would.“

"I wouldn’t let you."

"I know,” Scott nods to himself. “Derek thinks you’re broken or some shit, that Theo brainwashed you. But I know that’s not true. And it’s– it’s ok. You’re still my brother. No matter what.”

Stiles sniffs, wiping tears on Scott’s shoulder, leaving a red smear behind. “I love you too, bro.”

"I know, man. Me and you.” Scott kisses his hair, then mumbles, "About what happened with Derek and Theo, you staying somewhere safe?"

"Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, rubbing at his face. No point in trying to salvage his makeup now. “I assume you know about the girls."

"Good, good.” Scott replies, releasing him. “You stickin’ around for a bit? I gotta go patrol over on Ninth."

Lydia isn’t expecting him back until dawn. Basically shoved him out the door herself, after his fifth pack of Oreos in two days. "Mind if I tag along?"

Scott beams, "Not even a little bit.” They go to descend, but Scott grabs his arm, “Hey, just… I know Theo is a homicidal maniac and you’re a wanted criminal and all, but… are you happy?"

Stiles doesn’t even hesitant with his answer. "I am."

And especially with Scott by his side, it’s the truth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [the trash blog :o](http://smokesforwolves.tumblr.com)


End file.
